


Kid in a Fridge, Man in a Can

by DustyForgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Character Study, Children, Gen, Infertility, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 02:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14684225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyForgotten/pseuds/DustyForgotten
Summary: Dad. As in, the ghoul’s child. That’s not possible; they must have adopted some poor Wasteland boy—There, on the porch, is a ghoulified child, positively beaming at the only person on this earth Danse can still consider a friend.





	Kid in a Fridge, Man in a Can

Erin seems unsure when she says, “I want you to meet someone. Just…” She checks her Pip-Boy, flicks a tab over and back before looking up at Danse. Disappointment, preemptive. “Please don’t be mean.”

She tells him not to shoot anyone every time they walk into Goodneighbor, left him on a lower floor because she wanted to talk to the Courser before she killed it, but to simply… not be mean? “Is this going to be one of your… less savoury acquaintances?”

“They’re good people, Danse.” She looks honest. She always looks honest, though. “Be  _ nice. _ Please.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever told her  _ no _ . “I’ll follow your lead.”

She smiles, and they go southeast.

* * *

 

It’s a lovely home: well cared-for and uncrumbled. Just beyond the Quincy Ruins— so close it might as well be. There’s a strange disconnect between the domesticity of the house, and the bloody swath of Gunners tracing their path here.

Then he sees the slightly blood-spattered green combat breastplate tied to the porch railing, and that seems the least out of place.

“Matt!?” what sounds most like a woman croaks.

“Carol…?” The man has a rasp too, more than a smoker’s— and then he comes around from the side of the house, and it’s obvious why.

The ghoul grasps the porch railing, looking to a second story window, and not finding the woman, he takes notice of their visitors. He swallows when he sees Danse.

“Hi, Mr. Peabody.”

It’s with some effort he shifts his gaze to her; it softens instantly. “Erin, thank goodness. For a second there I thought the Brotherhood were back.”

Danse clenches his jaw, to keep from doing anything else.

“You been having trouble with them?” She sounds concerned as she approaches the house, the ghoul’s friendliness an invitation.

“Nothing unusual. Vertibird flew by the other day, got into it with the Gunners. Couple soldiers wandered around for a while, and then it picked ‘em up in the field out back. We just stayed down until they were gone. They’re not…” He definitely looks at Danse as he says, “Friendly.”

“Oh, I haven’t even introduced you!” Erin touches his arm as she says, “Mr. Peabody, this is Danse. Danse, Matt Peabody.”

“It’s a pleasure,” the ghoul says respectfully.

In Danse’s peripheral vision, Erin’s doing something either encouraging or threatening. “Likewise,” he mutters, in the most seething way he can.

He can’t feel it, obviously, being in X-01, but she smacks him on the back hard enough to be heard. “Well, how is the little rascal?”

“Oh, Billy’s great.” He smiles as he says it. “He’s still my boy, after all these years.”

Erin dips her head a little, less jovial. “He okay?”

Her hand’s still on his back.

Matt winces, a fleeting twitch. “Not so fond of small spaces anymore, but that’s not a problem if you stay out of the city. Pretty intense separation anxiety— not that we go anywhere, but I can barely work in the backyard without him.” Then he smiles, sadly, voice cracks (more so than usual). “I’m just so glad to have him back…”

He blinks a few too many times, looks up at the sky. Erin snaps the tension with a playful, “Well, can I see him?”

“Oh sure, sure. Billy!”

He hears bounding down the rickety staircase, a hop from the third or fourth to the bottom. “Yeah, dad?”

Dad. As in, the ghoul’s child. That’s not possible; they must have adopted some poor Wasteland boy—

“Your friend’s here.” Matt catches the front door as it swings open, closes it behind him when he steps inside.

There, on the porch, is a ghoulified child, positively beaming at the only person on this earth Danse can still consider a friend. “Erin!”

She leans forward, opens her arms. “What, no hug?”

The ex-Paladin averts his eyes while they embrace. Suppresses a gag.

“Danse,” she says, softly. She has one arm around the boy— ghoul—  _ child. _ “This is Billy.”

The child waves, ecstatically. He’s just a child. In all his years of service, clearing ferals and what would inevitably become them, he’d never seen a child.

“I found him in a fridge, if you can believe that.”

Numbly, “Hardly.”

“Oh, it gets better. He’s been in there since the war. Kid crawled in when the bombs dropped, and the door doesn’t open from the inside.”

“Cool power armor!”

Danse stares, dumbfounded.

“Like power armour, huh? Me too,” Erin takes over, glaring at Danse in a glance, but smiles at the child. “You know, the Atom Cats aren’t far from here. Maybe we’ll go on a field trip some time— assuming we can get your parents on board.”

“What are Atom Cats?”

“Only the hippest people in the Wasteland! You’re not cool if you’re not chrome, Jack.”

“I thought the child’s name was Billy,” Danse cuts in.

She points at him, but doesn’t look. “Shut it, Jack.”

“Are you staying for dinner?”

She sinks to one knee, taps him on the tip of a loosening nose. “As wonderful as I’m sure your mom’s cooking is, we’re too busy to stay.”

He pouts, with splitting lips. Erin’s shoulders slump, as she reaches into her bag. “I’m a terrible influence. Billy, bribing people is wrong,” she reminds, holding up a bottle of Nuka Cherry, “but I can’t stand to see a kid frown.”

He takes the bottle, excitedly. “I love Nuka Cherry!”

“Well, that works out. I like the original. But, hey, when you’re bouncin’ off the walls from all that caffeine, you’ve never heard of me.”

“Thanks Erin!”

“No sweat, kid.” She stands, and smiles down at him. Swallows, and nods to the house. “Eat up ‘fore it gets cold, now.”

The boy frowns, and wraps his arms around her legs, burying his face in her stomach. “Why are you so nice to me…?”

She pets the top of his head and says, “It’s about time I was nice to somebody.”

* * *

 

“Do you want kids, Danse?” she asks, elbow-deep in a wardrobe.

He’s the tank to her sniper, lookout to her looting: power armour clunks as he turns to face her. Erin’s looking the other way. “… It’s a moot point. I’m not…” a pause; a pressing from behind his eyes, “human.”

She shrugs, and appraises a pre-war dress. “Well, yeah. Everything below my belt’s shot from the radiation, but it’s the sort of thing you think about. What could have been, and all…” Voice lilting soft, she stows the garment where it was discovered. “Growin’ up in the vault, it was sort of the price for admission. First thing I did when I got out was overdose on rads and ruin my chances, but sometimes I still think…” A worn hand runs over something he can’t see in the shadow of the closet. “Would have been nice.”

Erin glances to her Pip-Boy, and decides to dig through drawers instead. Danse can’t decide what to say— so he doesn’t.


End file.
